Page 9

The wet terracotta roof was slick as Kierse hauled herself up onto it, barefoot.

She took off at a quick clip as the rain settled into her hair and into the silk of her slip dress.

She could not have selected a more inopportune outfit for the occasion.

The promise of summer was destroyed by the chilly rain that sank into her skin.

All she wanted were her warm black shirt and pants, some sturdy rubber-soled boots, and a waterproof jacket.

Or perhaps just a warm fire and no more thieving for the night. Something she so rarely desired.

With no Graves in sight—so much for covering her exit—she hopped from one roof to the next, angling to get a few buildings away before finding her way back to street level. But the next tile she landed on slipped from her under foot, and she careened forward.

Before she crashed into the roof and slid off, an arm snaked out from behind her and caught her around the middle.

“Fuck,” she gasped.

“I’ve got you,” Graves said, low and commanding.

She shivered at the sound. Hated and loved how it affected her all the same. She lifted her gaze and found his dark eyes. He was back in his suit jacket and gloves. His midnight hair was soaked from the rain, and it dripped forward against her lips as he held her.

She coughed and scrambled unsteadily back to her feet. “There you are.”

“I was on my way to the room. You didn’t make the rendezvous.”

“As if you didn’t already know what happened,” she said, slapping the envelope on his chest.

He pulled back. “What’s this?”

“The information you wanted.”

“I wanted the cauldron.” He stuffed the envelope into an inside jacket pocket.

“Well, she didn’t have it. Which you already knew.”

“Why would I send you in there if the cauldron wasn’t there?” he demanded.

“Save me from trying to figure out your schemes, Graves.”

He straightened at her tone. “We were in this one together.”

“I thought so, too,” she said, exhausted. “Can we just get out of the cold? My magic is fucked.”

Graves’s jaw tightened. “Of course.”

Then he removed his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders. She didn’t even have it in her to reject it. She wanted to get off of this roof.

They scaled the next gable, and then Graves opened a latched window, which led to another stairwell.

He led them down a set of stairs and out onto the street, where the limo waited.

She ducked inside with Graves close behind her, and George pulled away a moment later.

She stared out the window as the rain picked up, relentlessly beating on the roof.

Kierse gave him the rundown of what had happened with Estelle on the drive. He was quiet throughout her story, but when she got to the riddle, he snarled out the word, “Sacrifice,” almost before she’d finished.

“Sacrificial lamb,” Kierse said.

“That’s not what you are.”

She waved him off. It wasn’t even worth debating.

He appeared irritated by her dismissal. What Estelle had said made perfect sense. She’d thought they were in this one together, but just like last time, he’d been after something else and had used her to get it. Classic Graves.

Not ten minutes later, the limo came to a stop again on a darkened street.

“Where are we?” Kierse asked.

“My place.”

Kierse stared up at the dark facade. “I thought it was being renovated.”

“We’ll have to make do.”

Kierse wanted to argue, but she was starting to feel the strain from the magic loss.

Yeah, she’d stolen a few items while in that room—still had the ruby hair pin, in fact—but it hadn’t been enough to counteract all of Estelle’s magic.

She needed to sleep for a good twelve hours, and if she was going to pass out, she needed to do it somewhere safe.

She was mad about being Graves’s sacrificial lamb, but she didn’t think he’d let his prized thief come to further harm.

She followed him through the rain into another entryway and took the elevator to the top floor.

When he’d said that his place was being renovated, she’d thought he’d been making it up, but the place was in disarray.

White sheets on all the furniture. Nothing on any of the walls.

No curtains framing the French doors. A giant ladder stood sentinel in the center of the room along with paint supplies and construction equipment.

“Through here,” Graves said.

She tiptoed over the wreckage into a bedroom off of the main living area.

Graves tugged a sheet off of a lamp and plugged it in, illuminating the space, which consisted of a king-size bed, set of dressers, and little else.

The walls looked freshly painted, as if the bedroom reno had already been completed but they hadn’t bothered putting anything back into its rightful place.

The curtains had been cast open, revealing the most spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower sparkling in all its glory. Rain splattered against the windowpane as Kierse stepped up to the double French doors.

“What a view.”

“That is why I kept this one,” Graves said.

He removed the cloth covering the four-poster. She glanced at the bed. Was there another? This couldn’t be the only bed in his whole apartment…could it? The place wasn’t large by Graves’s standards, but surely there wasn’t only one bed.

“I probably have a change of clothes for you.” Graves disappeared and came back a minute later with a wool sweater. “Everything else is in storage. The bathing chamber is through there.”

“Thanks.”

She took the sweater and followed where he’d pointed, finding a bathroom with a clawfoot tub and giant double vanity.

She dropped her ruined dress to the floor and changed into the sweater, which reached to the tops of her thighs.

She removed Estelle’s ruby pin before wringing the rainwater out of her hair.

She braided it and used the pin to secure the end.

When she returned, Graves had opened the envelope that Estelle had given her and was reading a small card.

“What is it?”

He glanced up and did a full double take as she stepped into the room. His eyes roamed up her bare legs, stopping at the point where the sweater hit her thighs, then up across the oversize thing to her face. He sucked in a sharp breath before returning to the paper.

He cleared his throat. “There’s to be an auction for the cauldron.”

“Where?” she asked, fighting a satisfied smile at his reaction to her.

He held it out for her. “New York.”

“Of course,” she whispered as she read through the letter she’d rightfully won. “‘Join me at the New Amsterdam Theatre Aerial Gardens for a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream . Dress to theme.’”

Graves waved his hand dismissively. “That’s all fine, but I’ve never even heard of the company who is hosting.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’ll investigate before the auction.”

“Sounds like fun,” she said as she tossed the invitation back to him. “Who doesn’t love a costume party?”

Her magic drain was hitting her hard. She felt like she was going to pass out at any moment.

“You should sleep,” Graves said.

She dropped onto the bed. “Probably.”

Graves began to unbutton his shirt, and her eyes landed on the strip of bare skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He gestured to the bed. “There’s only the one.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You’re exhausted, and you need to sleep.”

“Together?”

Graves shot her a look as he stripped out of his shirt, giving her a spectacular view of his muscled chest and the tattoo that crept up to his shoulder. She swallowed and tried to stop staring but found it difficult. The last time she and Graves had shared a bed, things had been very heated.

“What? You can’t sleep next to me?”

“I mean…I can ,” she said.

His hands moved to his trousers, popping the button and pulling down the zipper. Kierse swallowed hard at the peek of black boxers underneath. The pants hung loose on his hips, and he smirked as she forced her gaze upward.

“Excellent. Then we’ll share.”

He let the pants fall to the ground, and she gulped.

“But…”

“Are you so affected by me?” he challenged.

Kierse set her jaw. “You know what?” she told him. “Fine.”

She lay back in the bed, letting the sweater ride up high on her thighs. It wasn’t as if she were the only one affected. He had absolutely responded to the sight of her in his sweater. And even if he hadn’t , she wasn’t about to let him win this one, too.

She glanced his way only for her eyes to get caught on the bulge in his boxers. He absolutely was not unaffected by her. Not with the length of him on display as it strained against the material. Fucking hell. She jerked her gaze away as he slid under the covers.

Graves pulled the string for the lamp, casting them into darkness except for the dim glow from the window. She could reach out at any moment and touch him, and it suddenly felt intimate.

And fuck, she wanted that. She didn’t know if she was his sacrifice or if there was some other game that Estelle was playing. She was too tangled up in him—had been, for far too long. She’d crossed an ocean to escape him, and it still hadn’t been far enough.

“The world looked different when I first purchased this flat,” Graves said into the darkness.

Kierse turned on her side to face him. She could only see the outline of his beautiful face. A visage cut from stone. She knew how it would feel to give in. To say fuck it, like she had that first time. If only things were so easy.

“Less noise. Less people. Less chaos,” he mused.

“When was that?”

“Before the World’s Fair. I was here with Imani as my apprentice,” he told her. “We met Montrell when he came from Nigeria for the Fair.”

“And you loved him?”

Graves’s lips quirked up. “An obsession,” he said instead. “For me and Imani both before he chose her.”

“Because you let him go,” she corrected.

“Perhaps,” he admitted.

She blinked in surprise. “You think you made a mistake? You? ”

“I have been reevaluating my past since you left.” He turned to look at her, and her heart stopped at the heat in that gaze. The way he seemed to reel her in, tugging bit by bit. “And perhaps some things were my fault.”

“Like what?”

Graves leaned forward and settled his hand on her hip. She inhaled sharply as he said, “You.”

“Me?”

“Everything that happened with you.” His fingertips circled on her naked hip. “I wish I could rewrite my life with you in it.”

She swallowed. She didn’t know what to do with this information as her body hummed to life.

She leaned toward him until their bodies were mere inches apart, her heart rate ratcheted up, and she glanced at his perfectly kissable lips and then back into his eyes.

His gaze settled on her, fingers sliding down her thigh.

The dark was where they both existed the best. It was easier to be here with him like this when she didn’t have to consider consequences or what came next.

“Kierse,” he breathed her name in the darkness, his fingers digging into her thigh as if he could barely hold himself back.

She shivered, wanting nothing more than his lips on hers. He drew her leg up, settling one leg between hers. His fingers drifted up the back of her thigh. Sensation rushed through her body as if awakening from a cold winter.

“Graves,” she said, and it came out more like a plea.

“Have you not missed me?” he asked. Their breath mingled as he brushed his nose along her jaw. “Have you not thought about this moment all these cold months without me?”

“I…”

She had. Could he read her? Was her magic that low? Or was it that obvious that despite her anger, she still wanted him with a fiery, obsessive desire?

He nipped at her earlobe. “Tell me what I can do to correct your estimation of me.”

“Stop lying,” she ground out.

“There will be no lies between us, then,” he agreed. He dipped his head into her neck. “I can smell your arousal.”

She tilted forward and into his embrace. Damn him. Damn her.

Her hands splayed across his solid chest. The heat of his fire, an inferno, was the only thing that could quench the ache building between her legs.

His fingers shifted upward, brushing against the soft silk of her panties.

They groaned together at the feel, and she nearly came right then and there.

She was already soaked through from his teasing.

“Do not lie to yourself either,” he said as he brushed his lips against her throat. “We both know you want this.”

“Graves,” she panted.

His finger began to swirl around her most sensitive bud. “All those long months with just your hand.”

“I…could have had a lover,” she gasped.

His chuckle was rough against her throat as his fingers swished through the slick material, feeling all of her. “My wren, my little thief, who else could satisfy you?”

She wanted to argue with him. Arguing with him had been the foreplay that led to this moment.

But as his fingers were currently occupied with her clit, she could do nothing but hold on for the ride.

She couldn’t even fathom how turned on she was.

He was still working her over her panties, and she felt close to bursting.

“Let the monster off the leash,” he commanded, using the words she had said to him all those months ago. “Come for me.”

And she did, shuddering, panting, and feral, her moans a chorus in the silent French apartment.

When she finished, he gave her pussy a little slap and rolled away from her with a satisfied smirk on his face. “At least that is still mine.” His eyes sparkled as he said, “Bonne nuit.”

Kierse glared at him through waves of pleasure as he closed his eyes. As if he could pass out after that . He’d proven his point. The bastard. No matter how far she ran, her body betrayed her with him at every turn. Something she very clearly could no longer lie to herself about.